


Of Missing Men and Monsters

by SnowyCrocus



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyCrocus/pseuds/SnowyCrocus
Summary: Magic may look like a gift to some, what with horses made of water and ice skating rinks from air. But Ebba, a native Arendellian, has had her life destroyed by magic, and won’t be fooled by how magic may seem.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Of Missing Men and Monsters

It was _magic_ , they told her.

Well, told her mother, more like. But Ebba was there – she saw and heard _everything._

The memory was weak and tenuous; after all, she had only been six years old when the guard appeared at their home, stiff and rigid and solemn.

But she could still recall brief snatches of the conversation – _disappeared – no trace, no, nothing – sorry, so sorry._

She remembers how at the word _magic_ her mother’s arms had stiffened around her, and at _he’s gone_ how her mother’s wails overtook the guard’s deep yet apologetic voice.

Her father was gone – gone to a sudden mist in the forest – and no matter how many times she traced the lines of his old letters, no matter how many times she smelled his scent of musk and whiskey and cigars that lined his thick coat, no matter how many times she tried to comfort her grieving mother lying languid in bed – he wasn’t coming back.

* * *

The stipend that The Crown gave to Ebba’s mother after her husband’s disappearance didn’t last for long.

Her mother worked from dawn ‘til dusk washing, pressing and folding for a list of clients that had nearly doubled to support herself and Ebba. But no matter how weary her hands were, no matter how much the skin cracked and no matter how little sleep she got, there wasn’t even enough kroner to buy Ebba new shoes once the soles split and her growing toes were poking out.

They hadn’t had enough for fish or meat for two _weeks._

So at the age of seven, Ebba’s education at the schoolyard was traded for education in the laundry business.

She was a quick learner. Two more hands meant twice as much laundry, twice as much money.

Ebba didn’t complain even once. Not when she didn’t get anything for Yule. Not when the harsh lye soap burned her hands and left them scarred. And not when her arms ached, getting worse every day, from hauling loads of steaming water and soaking linens.

She still heard her mother cry herself to sleep most nights, clutching her husband’s pillow.

 _Magic,_ the voice echoed in Ebba’s head as she drifted off into an exhausted sleep. _It was magic._

* * *

The years came and went, washed away with the same work and weariness of teasing a stain out of clothing.

Prince Agnarr became King Agnarr. People gossiped as they always did, talking about new taxes, changes in the weather, and the princess who seemingly appeared out of nowhere on the King’s arm.

For Ebba, the news didn’t matter. What difference did it make, where this girl came from? It didn’t affect her - she continued to steam and scrub and dry and fold, day after day after day.

* * *

The day the King and Queen were married, Ebba remembers the festivities, of course. She remembers the streamers and banners flying in the wind, the bright colors and cheerful music that serenaded the entire city of Arendelle.

She and the other villagers weren’t invited to watch, naturally – they weren’t important enough to attend such an event. But there were meats, fruits and pies passed around the town from the castle to celebrate, and beer steins clinked and clanked in pubs while many stopped their work to celebrate the new King and Queen’s matrimony.

But what Ebba remembers most is her temper from that day. She scrubbed the clothing so hard she tore a pair of breeches and someone’s new coat. Her mother gave her such a smack for that one that she was bruised and limping for a week.

For the wedding may have been a happy occasion for people of wealth such as the newlyweds themselves, but for Ebba, the work would never end. For her, nothing would change. Now a teenager approaching adulthood, she had had to grow up faster than most. She had learned the trials of being an adult, of having to work hard for your bread and for your roof. One day soon she would find a man who would give her pain and more mouths to feed, just so she could survive another day and hopefully support her ailing mother, for whom the laundry business had weakened her skin and hands and made her stooped with age and a hacking cough.

 _It was magical,_ all the townspeople said of the brief glimpse of the new happy couple.

But Ebba knows better. Being m _agical_ wasn’t a good thing – it’s only ever a curse.

* * *

The day the princess was born, at dusk on the year’s winter solstice, Ebba’s mother lay sick in bed, her hands clawed by her throat and cough rattling in her chest.

The weather that morning had grown bone-chilling cold, a light snow drifting across the city and strengthening with the day.

 _It’s a bad omen,_ people said – the Queen was said to be in labor during this storm. They didn’t expect the baby to survive, being brought to life in such harsh weather as this.

As the snow deepened, Ebba’s mother’s cough turned to a wheeze, and then to gasps for air. The wind howled so hard that it drowned out her gasping at times. Ebba tucked linens under the drafty doorway and around the windows, but the cold somehow found a way to creep into their meager household and into their very bones.

Hail and ice pelted the tin roof, clink-clanking to the beat of Ebba’s mother’s gasps. Ebba stoked the fire higher and higher, but the cold seeped in to stay.

Through the howling wind and pelting snow, the castle bells rang clear and true. The princess had been born.

Ebba’s mother took her final breath.

* * *

The young princess was said to be sickly and weak, rumor had it. That’s why she was hidden from the kingdom – why no one ever seemed to see her after the age of seven.

Ebba pushed down her innate sympathy for the King and Queen – no one should have to bear such a burden – but she shook the feeling and moved on, reminding herself that she herself had three young children to provide for and feed, and didn’t have time to worry about the children of others.

Her husband was due to return from work within the hour, and she still had to finish laundry from two clients as well as prepare dinner. Her husband didn’t like to wait.

She ignored the soreness from between her legs, pushed past the screaming of her dry, peeling hands and set about to feed her youngest from her breast while she began boiling the water for yet another load of laundry.

Sometimes, she wished a magic fairy would swoop in to relieve her from the monotony, from the pain, from the bleak world and desolate life that had found her.

But then she would wrap her mother’s shawl about her shoulders, feeling the warmth it gave her like a mother’s hug only could, and she would remember just what magic had taken from her family.

There were no miracles. There was no _good_ magic. Only things that shouldn’t exist, incidents that shouldn’t happen, and a wretched life waiting in the shadows.

* * *

The rains fell and a cool chill swept the kingdom the day Ebba heard that the King and Queen had perished at sea.

She found herself briefly wondering what kind of mission the King and Queen were on that they had to leave _together_ during the middle of the stormy season. What foolishness!

But was she surprised? No, certainly not. No matter who was ruling Arendelle, nothing ever seemed to change. She still struggled with laundry to clean, mouths to feed, and an insatiable husband. She haggled for meat and vegetables, scrubbed the linen, scolded her children and appeased her husband – day after day after day. Why should she have a care for the ruling family? They didn’t care for her or her people anyway.

She glanced at her eldest, Lisse, who at the age of fourteen wasn’t all that much younger than Princess Elsa, who would be coronated in three years’ time. What a shame, she thought, Princess or no. Ebba remembered the day she lost her father, and the grief she felt even as a child. She recalled the sense of deep loss, of no direction when her mother passed, and couldn’t bear the thought of losing both at once, only to have such a heavy burden placed upon her shoulders.

But what did she care for the emotions of a Princess? The Crown had taken everything from her, she reminded herself. If it wasn’t for them her father would have been there for her mother, Ebba could have stayed in school, and she could’ve found a man who looked at her more than just between the sheets.

While she was reminiscing, the rain turned to snow. Great white sheets of it pelted her home, nearly instantly covering her village in fresh white powder.

The suddenness of it startled Ebba. It was already a grim, dreary day, and it seemed to have worsened instantly, like magic.

* * *

Her little Karl, young and innocent and naïve at the age of six, dragged his siblings and Ebba herself out to the courtyard the night of Queen Elsa’s coronation.

Ebba didn’t want to go, hadn’t a single care for the Princess-turned-Queen who had hid from her kingdom and people for so long, but the excitement in her children’s eyes was so seldom seen that she couldn’t help but follow as his little legs took off in the direction of the castle.

The excitement was palpable. The bells had rung, announcing the Queen had been coronated, and Ebba could hear the light sounds of ballroom music coming from within the castle. The sun slowly set as Ebba and her neighbors talked and gossiped, giving toasts and dancing within the courtyard. Ebba tried to keep her children close but the excitement of the events saw them running around and dancing without a care and it was hard to keep track of all of them.

BOOM! The main doors to the castle burst open, the air turning frigid at exactly the same moment. The Queen!

Cheers rose from the crowd, but not from Ebba, who remained silent as she took in the appearance of the newly-crowned Queen.

She did look weak indeed- her hands trembled, clenched in front of her chest and eyes wide and haunted as though she had seen a ghost. She seemed troubled – and apparently others thought so too – even enough for someone to ask if she was alright.

Ebba felt the knot that always lay within the pit of her stomach clench even tighter. It was a familiar feeling, something that she had felt ever since the day the soldier brought news of her father’s magical disappearance and death. Something in the air….it felt…. _wrong_.

 _Karl!_ She yelled, as her heart hammered at the sight of the frozen fountain and icy steps. _Lisse! Anders!_ They appeared at her side, thank goodness, and she quickly pushed them behind her. She could feel every pounding of her heart and the hot blood running through her veins, though she shivered with goosebumps beginning to crawl up her arms.

As Ebba and her neighbors watched the Queen run off, little flurries turning to fat clumps of snow which fell faster and faster, Ebba felt her dread return with an icy vengeance.

 _Run, my Queen,_ she thought, quite unkindly, _and take your damned magic with you._

* * *

Ebba couldn’t remember the last time she had been so _furious._

 _Don’t you_ ever _go back there again!_ She shouted, her temper growing and hands shaking in both anger and fear.

 _But why, Mama, why?_ Little Karl cried.

 _It’s not dangerous!_ Lisse protested, even as she was smacked with the belt once more.

 _It was just ice skating, Mama, just for some fun,_ Anders joined in.

 _Look out there!_ Ebba gestured furiously, the belt snapping in her hand as she pointed towards the window.

 _What season is it?_ She asked, jaw shuddering with rage.

 _Summer…_ her children answered cautiously.

 _Exactly,_ Ebba retorted. _One does not go ice skating in summer._

 _But Queen Elsa lets us! She made the ice skating with her magic!_ Ebba is disappointed in her eldest. She’s heard stories of her lost grandfather tens, maybe hundreds of times. She should know better.

 _Magic,_ Ebba begins, gathering her naïve children in her arms, _is not the gift you think it is._

* * *

One night when Ebba is awoken from slumber three years later, she can feel in her gut that her nightmare has returned.

All the lamps are out – in the home and on the street. Their modest home begins to quake, the cobblestone streets outside the door rattling.

Ebba follows the lead of the soldiers, of the Queen and Princess, and ushers her children away from Arendelle and out to safety.

But Ebba glares at the Queen, standing and discussing with her family in a deep red nightdress. Woken from sleep just like the rest of them, dressed in pajamas just like the rest of them.

_What a farce._

* * *

Ebba moans. It’s anguished, despairing. She just wants to sit down and give up.

All that work. All that hardship, all that she endured over her lifetime since childhood.

All to simply be washed away, not a single memory or token left behind.

Ebba watches the enormous wave creep closer and closer. She wants to look away but can’t, and finally lets loose some of her tears that she’s been holding back instead. She was trying to be strong for her children. But what’s the point, now? What does anything matter?

 _Magic._ Even the thought sounds dirty in her mind. Magic has taken _everything_ from her.

* * *

Everyone around her claps and cheers, singing praises of Queen Elsa and her incredible magic.

Their home has been saved.

Ebba is glad her home still stands. She is glad that she does not have to face the nightmare of starting out all over again, but this time with nothing.

But she catches the Queen’s smile at the crowd, sees the easy way she sits on her _magical_ water horse.

Wouldn’t it be _so_ nice, Ebba thinks scathingly, to just wave your hands and make whatever you need?

Her neighbors continue to clap and cheer, but Ebba isn’t one of them.

* * *

Ebba wishes she could finally relax at Queen Anna’s coronation. She wishes she could take a deep breath and pretend that watching the-now _Lady_ Elsa ride off into the sunset on her magical water horse meant that her life could finally reach a point of normality.

She keeps her children close. She tells them once again the story of their grandfather, how The Crown abandoned them in their time of need. She tells them of missing men, of frozen hearts, and of monsters that don’t look like monsters.

Ebba hopes that this is the end of magic toying with her life.

But even the wind feels different, now, and Ebba isn’t so sure if the magic will ever be entirely gone.


End file.
